


The Edge of Tonight

by how_about_no



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Memory Loss, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2018-07-19 01:29:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7339033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/how_about_no/pseuds/how_about_no
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No.” Tony took one look at the four of them, and tried to slam his door shut.</p><p>“Tony.” Steve stopped the door easily with his right hand, and held it open no matter how much Stark pushed.</p><p>“You’re terrible,” Tony glared at him with as much venom as a small man with a goatee could, “You have just turned up on my doorstep with two ex-assassins, a war veteran and yourself. Didn’t you take down Shield a few months ago? I would still be sleeping.”</p><p> </p><p>or</p><p>Steve finally finds Bucky, and no matter what they go through, they make it through together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first stucky fic? Yay?
> 
> I'm sorry if it's shit.
> 
> It probably won't be really long, but I wanted to post the first chapter anyway because I'm impatient like that.

_"Yeah the road is long-_

_and I am tired-_

_But with you on my horizon-_

_I will drive until it all breaks down._ _"_

 

It had been six months and three days since the start of the search. Throughout that time, Steve discovered that he could now survive on just a few hours’ sleep per night. Sam told him it wasn’t healthy. Steve didn’t care.

More often than not, he would re-read the file. Every detail of the terrible things they did to Bucky replayed in his mind like a crudely done horror film. He couldn’t imagine what it must’ve been like to experience, and shuddered at the thought of the nightmares Bucky must have been having, wherever he was in the world.

They had started in America. Steve was hopeful that there must’ve been some memories coming back to Bucky, because who else could’ve pulled him out of the water? Maybe he stayed in America, close to home, searching for more. When they came up with nothing, Sam suggested looking for leads within the remains of Hydra. The farther they travelled, the more determined Steve became. From England, to China, Thailand, Russia, Belgium, Germany- they always left empty handed. The Winter Soldier left traces behind, traces that suggested maybe he wanted to be tracked. Every base they went to, every abandoned building Hydra used, there were bodies, smashed computers, deleted files. Sam told him that he was reading too much into it, grasping for hope that wasn’t there. He didn’t stop helping.

Steve wouldn’t give up. He would never give up searching. Not until Bucky was safe, and with him. Failure wasn’t an option.

They found a lead through an old Hydra base that said there were some remaining agents in Romania. If The Winter Soldier- or Bucky- was doing what it looked like he was doing, then he would have found the same lead, and gone to the same place. The problem was that he was always three steps ahead of Steve and Sam, usually having left the place in pieces by the time the two men got there. Steve was just hoping that one day they were quicker. One day they could get there first, and catch Bucky before he could run away again.

“No one has picked up on me yet.” Steve murmured, making sure his lips didn’t move too obviously. He was walking down a street in Eforie, his hands in his pockets, not bothering to hide the fact that he was Steve Rogers- Captain America. It was a safe assumption that he was still a wanted man in Hydra’s eyes. Even if The Winter Soldier was still more prominent than James Buchanan Barnes, Steve was his mission. If he were spotted, they would go for him.

This lead was going to be harder. They had to locate the individual agents stationed here instead of breaking into a building that was already destroyed. That is, if the agents were still here.

 _“Keep moving,”_ Sam’s voice came through the ear piece, crystal clear, thanks to Stark technology, _“I’ve got my eyes on you.”_

“Any suspicious characters?” Steve pretended to wipe his nose to cover his voice, ducking his head slightly so he could scope his left side, see if anyone was watching him. The only form of disguise he had was his cap, but that was only for protection from the sun, or ‘It’s your namesake, captain, live a little’.

 _“Negative,”_ Sam confirmed after a few silent moments, _“We assuming Barnes still has the same look?”_

“He could have cut his hair,” Steve adjusted his cap so his face was slightly covered on both sides, “His arm would be covered.”

 _“Let’s hope he hasn’t spotted me.”_ Sam grumbled, _“If you hear snapping, it’s my neck.”_

Sam was in a hotel room at the beginning of the road Steve was walking down, a perfect vantage point to observe the surroundings outside Steve’s peripheral. Redwing was on guard, in case something went wrong. In Steve’s mind, the worst case scenario was being confronted in the middle of a crowd of pedestrians, resulting in him having to protect the civilians as well as himself. The most likely scenario was that nothing would happen at all.

“Noted.”

Steve cast a glance behind him once more, and saw there was a woman sat outside a coffee shop watching him carefully. It was almost unnoticeable, as she was wearing large, rounded sunglasses that covered most of her face. As soon as Steve looked her way, she looked down at her coffee again as if nothing had happened.

“Short black hair, coffee, pale skin, rounded sunglasses.” Steve said, then walked towards a small stall that was selling newspapers and cold drinks. He smiled and handed the bearded man some money, pointing at what he wanted because Romanian was one of the few languages he didn’t speak.

 _“Got her.”_ Sam said, _“She’s watching your back.”_

“Hostile?” Steve took a sip of the drink, starting to wander back the way he came so it looked like he was walking down there for a purpose other than to make his presence known.

 _“Not reaching for a weapon,”_ Sam sounded like he was shrugging, _“She’s approaching.”_

“Copy.” Steve stood by a fountain, listening to the sounds of water trickling and people chatting in a language he didn’t understand. There was something peaceful about it. He could sense someone coming towards him, and tried not to show that he was preparing himself for a fight. If the woman tried anything, Sam would send out Redwing with Steve’s shield, then come out and help if things went south. It wasn’t a solid plan, but it was a plan all the same.

“Глядя на ваш мальчик?” A voice came from his side, and he didn’t need to look to know it was the woman. Her voice was familiar, low and gravelly, like a smoker’s.

“Я не говорю по-русски.” It was the only phrase he knew. Then again, he was probably saying it wrong, but he hoped the woman understood. He glanced her way. She was a few inches smaller than him, in a beige trench coat tied at the waist so it showed of her slim figure. The twist of her mouth and the way she was standing suddenly brought Steve back to someone he hadn’t seen since her cover was blown, “Nat?”

“That’s Paige to you, soldier.” Natasha rolled her shoulders back and continued to watch the fountain, “He’s not here.”

“Who?” Steve took another sip, trying not to show any reaction to her words.

“Your boy, Barnes.” Natasha smirked, “I told you not to dig. It isn’t pretty.”

“I don’t do well with instruction.” Steve offered her some of his drink, now realising it was lemonade, which he didn’t even like. She took it, their fingers brushing, as if on purpose.

“I know.” Natasha tipped the drink back and took a few generous mouthfuls.

“Careful, fizzy drinks make you gassy.” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Charming.” Natasha handed back the drink with a smile, then moved her glasses down to the tip of her nose, “He doesn’t want to be found. When are you going to quit?”

“I’m not.” Steve said putting the empty can in the bin by his right side.

“рядовые.” Natasha grumbled.

“I got a lead,” Steve ignored what was probably an insult, “About Hydra agents stationed here.”

“Gone.” Natasha said, “I’ve been here two weeks. No signs.”

“So he’s been and gone.” Steve’s shoulders slumped.

“Sorry.” Natasha put a hand on his shoulder, trying to be consoling but feeling forced.

 _“Um, cap?”_ Sam spoke up in the ear piece, and Steve frowned.

“I’m here.” He said and Natasha raised her eyebrows, but Steve wasn’t paying attention, focused on the tension in Sam’s tone.

_“Man on the roof behind you. Pretty tall, short hair, something glinting in the sun on his left arm. Don’t turn-”_

The warning was too late. Steve whipped around, looking up to see a masked man stood on top of the building behind him. Before he got a proper chance to identify him, the man was running.

“I’m going after him.” Steve said, already running towards the building head on.

“Steve!” Natasha shouted, at the same time as Sam saying, _“Way ahead of you.”_

The piping of the gutters was easy enough to climb, and surprisingly sturdy. Steve ignored the shouts of the people below him that he ran through to get here. He scaled the wall, making his way up swiftly and quickly. When he pulled himself up onto the roof, the man was nowhere in sight.

“Sam?”

_“On your left, jumping rooves, I’m on top of him.”_

“Can you do anything?” Steve jumped, landing on his shoulder and rolling onto his feet on the next roof.

 _“He’s moving too fast and zig zagging.”_ Sam grunted, _“All I can do is follow.”_

“Crap.” Steve jumped again, pumping his legs so fast he felt like he was going to fall over from the momentum of it.

 _“Jumped down by the pier.”_ Sam updated him and Steve changed direction, leaping down onto some fire escape stairs, then swinging off them into an alley.

“Sorry.” He shouted over his shoulder to the couple he practically landed on. He skidded round a corner and spotted the man running up the pier towards a boat, “No!”

His heart was beating out of his chest, not from excursion, but from anticipation. The metal arm was obvious now that the sleeves of Bucky’s hoody were rolled up. He was wearing fingerless gloves and the same mask from before. Now though, his hair was messily cut, almost into its old style, and there was no dark paint in sight. Bucky was even wearing blue jeans, not exactly the outfit of the Winter Soldier. The sight only confirmed Steve’s theory of the man’s memories returning, which made him more determined to not let him go.

_“He’s gonna steal that boat, man.”_

“Not on my watch.” Steve ran harder, felt the pavement crack beneath his shoes, not caring about the damage done, he pushed and pushed until he was running faster than Bucky. He tripped onto the pier, nearly falling over at the sharp corner, then regaining speed and steadily catching up to the other man.

 _“Come on!”_ Sam shouted, and Steve brought a hand to his ear at the force of it.

“I’m trying!” He shouted back.

Bucky jumped into the boat, smashing the box at the front with his metal fist, grasping for wires in such a hurry that he couldn’t possibly find the right ones to hotwire the thing.

Steve reached the boat just as Bucky stopped searching and ripped wires apart. He didn’t hesitate to think, just leapt forward and tackled him to the floor of the boat, feeling the vehicle rock with the force of it.

“Stop running!” Steve shouted, pleading, but Bucky didn’t reply, just flipped them over so he was on top, then scrambled to his feet. Rolling onto his side, Steve noticed that Bucky wasn’t trying to hotwire the boat anymore, and he wasn’t climbing out of it to continue running. It was only a small speedboat, so when Steve stood up too, he and Bucky were only a metre apart, looking at each other, trying to gage if they were going to fight or talk. Steve held his hands up, feeling the run get to him, his breaths coming quick and heavy.

“You know who I am.” Steve said slowly, like talking to a timid animal.

“You’re Steve.” Bucky’s voice was muffled through the mask, but his words were clear. The waves around them made the boat sway, and Steve could hear people talking and cameras snapping photos of them as they looked at each other. It smelt like sea salt and sweat, which was so different to where Bucky and Steve once were, but wherever Bucky was is somewhere Steve could call home. He wasn’t running, and that was all he could ask for, “I read about you in a museum.”

“You know me for more than that.” Steve tilted his head, trying to smile, but it turned out as more of a grimace.

“Brooklyn.” Bucky’s eyebrows pulled together, “Friends since childhood. Inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield. That’s us.”

“Yeah,” Steve dared take a step closer, and Bucky didn’t move away, “You’re Bucky.”

“Bucky.” Steve could almost see the cogs turning in his head as he put the pieces together, possibly remembering more, “The museum called my Barnes. James Buchanan Barnes.”

“What do you want to be called?” Steve asked, and Bucky seemed to consider it for a moment, before his features shut down again into the blank stare of the Winter Soldier. He brought his metal hand up, and ripped of the mask, throwing it onto the pier, revealing a choppily shaved face and chapped lips.

 _“Want me to net him_?” Steve glanced up and saw Redwing above them, and before he could confirm or deny, Bucky looked up too and growled low in his throat. He pulled a gun from his belt and shot the machine out of the sky, then pointed it at Steve, his face void of emotion, _“Shit- shit, Steve I can’t see you anymore. What’s happening?”_

“You don’t want to shoot me.” Steve spoke to Bucky instead of replying to Sam, still holding his hands out in front of him.

 “No.” Bucky’s eyes filled with pain and anguish, but the arm holding the gun, the human one, was steady.

_“I’m coming down.”_

“You don’t.” Steve took another step forward, so the gun was pressed against his forehead, and Bucky’s eyes widened.

“Steve.” It came out like a sob.

“Come on.” Steve curled his fingers around Bucky’s wrist, closing his eyes and praying that the other man wouldn’t pull the trigger. Slowly, he tugged on Bucky’s arm, bringing it down without protest, so the gun was pointing at the floor instead of at Steve.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky dropped the gun and slumped forward, Steve catching him and wrapping his arms around the man’s shoulders, feeling the human arm curl around his waist while the metal one stayed by Bucky’s side, “I’m so so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Buck,” Steve closed his eyes, savouring the feeling of Bucky’s face buried in the crook of his neck, his eyelashes brushing over Steve’s skin when he blinked, “I’ve got you.”

“There’s something I thought I’d never see.” Natasha was stood on the pier, her glasses abandoned but black wig still in place. Steve gave her a weak smile, wondering how long it would take for all the pedestrian’s videos to go online so this blissful peace of having his best friend back would be well and truly over.

 

 

Russian-

"Looking for your boy?"

"I do not speak Russian."

"Men."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is mostly little snippets. I didn't want this fic to be really long, but I also didn't want to rush Bucky's progress for realisticness' sake. So yeah. Snippets.

“No.” Tony took one look at the four of them, and tried to slam his door shut.

“Tony.” Steve stopped the door easily with his right hand, and held it open no matter how much Stark pushed.

“You’re terrible,” Tony glared at him with as much venom as a small man with a goatee could, “You have just turned up on my doorstep with two ex-assassins, a war veteran and yourself. Didn’t you take down Shield a few months ago? I would still be sleeping.”

“Let us in, Stark.” Natasha said warningly, “It’s only a matter of time before the press finds out we’re here, and when they do, it won’t be pretty.”

“You use that phrase a lot, you know.” Tony turned his glare on her, “’It won’t be pretty’ is overused in your vocabulary. I mean, is anything pretty do you? Or is the world just full of ugly things compared to your reflection?”

“I don’t know.” Natasha shrugged, “Want to find out?”

“Please, Tony.” Steve glanced back at Bucky, who looked like he was resisting every instinct that told him to run. He met Steve’s eyes and relaxed minutely, before nodding, “We need a secure place to hide out for a bit.”

“I liked my life so much better when it was just me and Pepper.” Tony said with roll of his eyes, finally moving out of the way of the doorway. With one more glance behind him, Steve walked in with the others and took off his cap and glasses, “You all have your own floors already so I’m giving you no house warming. And you,” He pointed at Bucky, “No murdering in my tower, okay?”

“Okay.” Bucky grumbled, looking more confused than insulted.

“Good.” Tony said, turning around, “If anyone needs me, which I hope you won’t, I’ll be in the lab drinking myself into an early grave.”

“He doesn’t mean that.” Steve said when Bucky gave him an alarmed look.

“You don’t know that.” Tony shouted over his shoulder as he left the room.

“Well,” Natasha said after a moment of silence, “I’m going to go have a bath and figure out whether I’ll still be here in the morning.”

“I don’t have a floor.” Sam said sullenly, “This is the first time I’ve met Tony and he didn’t even ask what my name is.”

“That’s Tony.” Steve said with a small smile, “You can go on any floor that’s available, but I recommend Banner’s. He’s the most understanding.”

“Banner? As in Hulk?” Sam pretended to growl, “Like, I turn green and huge and muscly when I’m angry Banner? That guy.”

“Yes.” Steve nodded seriously, “Just don’t mess with his lab equipment and you’ll be fine.”

“I’ll show you where it is.” Natasha said before leading Sam out of the room with a swish of her expensive coat. After watching them go and taking a deep breath, Steve turned to Bucky to see the man watching him with nothing less than utter terror in his eyes.

“Do you want your own floor?” Bucky shook his head, “I have a spare room on mine, if you want.” Bucky pursed his lips, then nodded minutely, “Come on.”

 

Steve’s floor was huge, bigger than he was used to. Wherever he and Sam had stayed over the last six months was small, and before that, in Brooklyn, he and Bucky shared a tiny, cold apartment on a dingy street. Still, it was home. The open floor plan and chrome colouring of the interior design here unsettled him. It reminded him how far away he was from home.

Bucky ran his human fingers over the plastic walls, looking around the expansive space like he had when they went to the science convention back in the forties.

“You like it?” Steve asked gently, not turning the lights on in fear of spooking the other man. He had a feeling there would be a lot of eggshells to step on for a while.

“New,” Bucky frowned, then brought his hand away from the wall, “Cold.”

“I can turn the heating on.” Steve offered, already walking over to the thermostat. It took him a while to get the hang of it, but he insisted on using the actual tool instead of Jarvis. If he ever wanted to live on his own, it was a skill he needed to have.

“Okay.” Bucky said, then moved into the kitchen, opening all the cupboards, and the fridge, making small noises of acknowledgement at the things he found, “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.” Bucky looked at him once, then his gaze fell to his feet.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Buck.”

“I’m sorry.” He said again, and Steve sighed.

“I know.”

 

“Breakfast?” Steve offered, gesturing to the bacon sizzling in the pan. All he got was a grunt in reply, then Bucky took the plate Steve offered him away and into his bedroom.

 

“Have you looked at the papers?” Sam asked him halfway into their sparring session, sweat dripping down the side of his face while Steve wasn’t even out of breath.

“No.” Steve said, “I want to steer clear. Focus on getting Bucky better.”

“We’re going to have to explain sooner or later.” Sam told him, a disturbing amount of pity in his eyes.

“I know.”

 

“What is this?” A voice came from behind Steve and he jumped, not used to Bucky’s new skill to walk around almost silently. He recovered quickly and gestured at the TV.

“A film called Pocahontas.” He smiled, “You know we’ve missed around fifty Disney films?”

“Disney,” Bucky frowned, and Steve could almost see the cogs turning in his head, “Pinocchio?”

“You remember that?” It had been late winter, and Steve was starting to get ill. Bucky always took it upon himself to make Steve feel better, and took some of his hard earned wages out of their savings so they could go and see the new Disney film everyone was ranting and raving about. Steve sniffled and coughed all the way through it, and many people in the cinema got mad about it, but Bucky just glared and put a protective arm around his shoulders, daring them to say something.

“No.” Bucky said before walking away, only the slam of his bedroom door as a sign that he hadn’t disappeared from Steve’s life completely.

 

“He just needs time.” Natasha told him, her face blank and unfeeling.

“I’m sure your buddy just needs to be alone sometimes.” Tony told him, tinkering with a coffee machine that didn’t look like it even belonged in this century.

“Just give him space.” Sam told him, a small, sympathetic smile on his face.

“I know.” Steve told Natasha, avoiding eye contact.

“I know.” Steve told Tony, walking away from the conversation before he became a test subject.

“I know.” Steve told Sam, hating his pity and that it was directed at him.

 

“You get nightmares?” Bucky asked him one morning, the second morning in a row he had stayed in the kitchen to eat instead of retreating to his room.

“Every night.” Steve replied, watching Bucky eat methodically and mechanically.

“Me too.” Bucky said.

 

Steve went outside for the first time in a month. He ran through secluded places, hoping no one would see him, and that he would see no one. Rain beat down on him as he ran, but he didn’t care. He ran, and ran, and ran, until it felt like his heart was beating so fast it stopped, and his legs ached like they were going to fall apart.

When he got back, the apartment was a wreck.

“Buck?” Steve shouted, “Bucky?!”

“You were gone.” Bucky was sat in a corner, his arms wrapped around his knees, “I asked everyone and they didn’t know where you were.”

“You asked them where I was?”

“You spar with Sam on Mondays and Thursdays,” Bucky said, his throat sounding raw, “Meet with Natalia on Saturdays. Help Tony nearly every day. You’re never out for so long.”

“Sorry, Buck.” Steve crouched in front of the man, who had started shaking as he spoke, “I went for a run.”

“Never used to do that.”

“What?”

“So small,” Bucky’s lips curled in something similar to a smile, “If you ran you’d have to stop after ten damn seconds and catch your breath.”

“You could’ve gone so far without my asthmatic ass dragging you back.” Steve chuckled, thinking back to the amount of times Bucky complained to him about how slow he was. It was obvious the man didn’t mean it, and they’d both laugh, but it really did make their lives more difficult.

“Didn’t want to.” Bucky said quietly, “Wouldn’t have left you for the world.”

“Me neither.”

“But I did.” Bucky frowned, and Steve didn’t bring to attention the tears trailing down his cheeks, “I left you. By yourself.”

“I can fend for myself, Buck.”

“I left you.” Bucky sobbed, and all Steve could do was sit in front of him and listen to the cries.

“You’re back now,” Steve said, “That’s all that matters.”

 

Bucky came and sat next to him on the sofa late one night, wrapped in a huge jumper with red, puffy eyes.

“Can we watch Pinocchio?” He said, rubbing his nose with a sleeve clad hand.

“Of course.” Steve said, pulling up the Netflix home screen.

They watched three Disney movies, and Steve fell asleep to the sound of Bucky’s even breathing, and his head on Steve’s shoulder.

 

A glance at his digital clock told Steve it was four o’clock in the morning when his door creaked open. Bucky was stood in the doorway, his posture slouched and his metal arm hidden behind his back.

“Can I come in?” He asked, running a hand through his hair, a nervous tick that Steve remembered from before the war.

“Sure.” Steve said, sitting up and holding up a corner of his duvet for Bucky to crawl in, “Nightmare?” Bucky nodded, “Want to sleep here?” He nodded again.

Slowly, Steve laid down again, overly aware of the fact that Bucky was by his side, a warm and familiar presence in a completely new world.

“We used to do this.” Bucky whispered into the darkness, his breath hot on Steve’s neck where he was laid on his side and Steve was on his back.

“Share a bed?” Steve asked, trying to stop his heart from beating so hard.

“Yeah,” Bucky breathed, “In winter. You were so small and frail. Even if you were sick, I’d climb into your bed and keep you warm.”

“Got yourself sick in the process.” Steve murmured, and felt Bucky’s human hand curl in his T Shirt. He was tempted to put his own over it, but didn’t know what the other man would be comfortable with.

“Worth it.”

“Goodnight, Buck.”

“G’night, Stevie.”

 

Things started to go back to the way they were, but shoved into a new time. Bucky slept in Steve’s bed nearly every night, and ate breakfast with him nearly every day. He talked more too, but it was in parts, unfinished sentences and incomplete thoughts. It was progress.

 

“How do you do this?”

“No- no- definitely not like that. Oh my God you’re doing this so wrong.”

“Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain, Steve.”

“Just give me the remote.”

“Like you weren’t just as bad when you started.”

“I was worse.”

“Unsurprising.”

“God, you’ve gotten more mean.”

“What did I say about God’s name?”

 

“You look happy.” Natasha observed over her coffee, watching Steve with a calculating gaze.

“I am,” Steve smiled, “I really am.”

“I’m glad.”

 

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with this?” Steve asked, watching Tony move around his lab with apprehension. He looked up to see Bucky doing the same from his place on the metal table in the middle of the room.

“Yes.” Bucky said, his voice still gravelly from disuse. He had been talking more, and even laughed for the first time a few weeks ago, which nearly made them both cry. There were good days and bad days. Sometimes Bucky wouldn’t speak or leave his room for a few days at a time. He was getting better, though, and Steve was going to be next to him every step of the way, “I want to get rid of everything they did to me.”

“Plus I could give you lasers,” Tony shrugged, “Secret compartments.”

“Tony.” Steve scolded.

“Or make it look like a real arm.” He rolled his eyes, “Whatever you want, Bucko.”

“Real arm,” Bucky said, “Maybe with one secret compartment. For keys.”

“Handy.” Steve nodded.

“Literally.” Bucky replied, smirking. It was an even better day if Bucky had his old sense of humour back. Those days were the ones where he was happiest, and by extension, when Steve was his happiest.

“Stop smiling at each other like that. It makes me uncomfortable.” Tony shoved Steve aside with a disgusted noise and started to fettle with Bucky’s arm, making approving sounds and disapproving ones as he worked, while Bucky pulled faces over his head at Steve, “Now, if I just,” Something clicked, then whirred, and suddenly Tony was holding the arm away from Bucky’s body, “There.”

“How did you-?”

“Science.” Tony raised his eyebrows, “It was pretty basic technology compared to mine considering it was made in the fifties. I mean, I could build something like this in my sleep.”

“Don’t build my arm in your sleep.” Bucky’s glare had become more menacing over the seventy years he had been gone, and Steve was glad that he never had to experience it directed at him ever again.

“Hey, Tony, could you give me a hand?” Steve said completely seriously, and Tony looked at the arm, back at Steve, then back at the arm again.

“Did you just make a joke?”

“I hate you.” Bucky glared. Okay, maybe he would experience it again.

Worth it.

 

“Sir,” Jarvis’ voice came through into the apartment, and Bucky jumped, his eyes immediately becoming alert and hackles going up, “Miss Potts has told me to ask you to meet her in her office in twenty minutes.”

“What for?” Steve put a reassuring hand on Bucky’s shoulder, who was breathing heavily, coming down from his sudden adrenaline rush.

“She says that the press is getting out of hand. It is something that is urgent to discuss.”

“The press?” Bucky whined.

“I have been dreading this moment.” Steve dropped his forehead onto Bucky’s shoulder, thankful that that kind of contact was now allowed. Progress.

Time to face the vultures. That’s what kids called them these days wasn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme know what you think so far! It'll be more of a solid story after this, like the first chapter. As I said at the beginning of this chapter, I wanted to have some proper progress for Bucky in his own time instead of rushing it for my story's sake. i'd say this chapter probably takes place over two months? Obviously, Bucky isn't nearly fully recovered yet, but I'm taking the fact that he is a supersoldier into account. In my world, that means he will recover memories and heal mental wounds faster than the average human. Let me have this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm taking so long to update. I have so many incomplete fics and I'm trying to keep all of them going. I'm really overestimating my skill, here.  
> Hope you enjoy this new chapter! There'll be more romance and stuff next, and more bromances in the avengers. Just wanted to get a foundation, I guess?  
> Why do all of my fics end up way longer than intended...

They rode up in the lift in silence, Bucky still slightly shaken from being made jump. It wasn’t one of his bad days, but it wasn’t a good day either. He hadn’t really spoken. They still sat together, Bucky laughed when Steve made comments about the TV, ate a good amount, sat close enough that Steve could feel the heat radiating from him.

Pepper was sat at on the edge of her desk when they walked into her office, typing something into her phone with such ferocity that Steve didn’t really want to interrupt her. It was odd to see her in casual clothes in a business setting, but she _had_ said it was urgent. The crease in her brow deepened as she read, then she shook her head and started typing again.

Automatically, Steve stood slightly in front of Bucky, having taken protecting him from social situations on as another responsibility. The list was growing, but Steve didn’t mind.

“What are the arm chair generals saying?” Bucky did, however, which is why he moved in front of Steve to pull Pepper out of whatever conversation she was having with someone on the other end of her phone.

“Good, you’re here,” Pepper sighed, then straightened, smoothing out her top even though it wasn’t the shirt she usually wore, “We’ve done well hiding your residence here from the press so far, but word has gotten around. Everyone wants to know why Captain America was chasing a masked man through Romania and where they are now.”

“What do we do?” Steve asked, keeping an eye on Bucky’s tense shoulders.

“Well, lucky for you, none of the videos people got showed you telling James who he is.”

“How did you-?” Steve started, but Pepper held up a hand to silence him.

“Natasha gave me a full report while you two were in your own world, don’t worry about it. Our main concern right now is keeping the public at bay. We do that by having a press conference.”

“Do I have to be there?” Bucky bit his lip. Press conferences, Steve was used to. There had been endless interviews and questions after the attack on New York, then even more after Ultron. It was pretty predictable that they would have to hold one about Bucky as well, Steve just wished the day wasn’t so soon.

“Of course,” Pepper arched an eyebrow almost judgingly, “We can’t tell the story of how Bucky Barnes is actually alive without Bucky Barnes there. Don’t worry, Steve will be with you, and he can probably help answer most questions if it will really be that much of a problem for you, but your presence is non-negotiable.”

“Okay.” Bucky ducked his head, and Steve placed a calming hand at the bottom of his spine before addressing Pepper.

“We’ll have to select the journalists extremely carefully,” He said, “And you’ll have to give us a list of what we should say, and what we should leave out.”

“One thing I know we’re leaving out is the fact that he is the Winter Soldier,” Pepper glanced at her phone again, “We want to make public opinion of you better, not demolish it.”

“I’ll practise my curtsy.” Bucky joked, the tension seeping away from his muscles slightly, as if the idea was settling in and becoming less daunting. Steve smiled.

“Good thing I’ve got mine perfected.”

 

“Are we gonna have to deck out for this thing?” Bucky threw another piece of popcorn, which landed in Steve’s mouth with sniper precision. It was to be expected, really.

“A little, I guess,” Steve chewed and tried to listen slightly to the film playing in the background of their conversation. It was taking longer than expected to catch up on all the Disney movies, and Disney channel? That was a whole other bucket of crap they had to get into, “You can’t look like a drool, but we don’t need suits or anything.”

“Hopefully Stark’s arm will be done by then,” Bucky flexed his metal fingers, watching them with distaste, “Can’t go out in public tryin’ to pass as anything other than the winter soldier with this thing.”

“You know what?” Steve shrugged, “It’s kind of growing on me.”

“Anything that’s part of me, you’ll like, Stevie. I learned that a long time ago.” Bucky smirked, then grabbed another piece of popcorn.

“You think you’re a real dreamboat, don’t you?” Steve held his mouth open and Bucky threw the piece with a laugh, his eyes glittering with life that had been slowly returning for the last few months. They were almost as bright as before the war, but Steve had a feeling they would never reach that again.

“I know I am,” Bucky smiled, “But how could I ever compare to Captain America?”

“You compare pretty well. I here he’s just some kid from Brooklyn that got lucky.”

“You know what I hear?” Bucky pursed his lips, his expression falling into one that Steve was extremely familiar with, “That he’s a good man that got muscles to match his bravery. That way he can actually fight the people who could crush him before.”

“See?” Steve swallowed, “Lucky.”

“I call it fate.” Bucky said dramatically, leaning forward, “You were meant to be Captain America, Steve Rogers. Just like I was meant to be by your side. Fate, see?”

“Sure, fate.” The silence that fell between them was tense, neither of them wanting to be the first to break eye contact, or neither of them wanting to break it at all. It was one of the old habits they had fallen back into. Sitting in silence when there was nothing to say. Now, though, there was the hum of the television in the background when before they couldn’t afford one.

“So,” Bucky broke the silence, still not looking away from Steve but smiling the tension away, “You kept the costume?”

“Yeah,” Steve laughed, “Some guy wanted me to and I kinda value his opinion over most others.”

“Lucky guy to get your attention.”

“Lucky?” Steve teased, an eyebrow raised, “I call it fate.”

 

“Oh, boys, don’t you clean up well.” Tony drawled, looking over his glasses appreciatively. Steve just laughed, straightening his blazer in the mirror, trying not to feel closed in by the top button. Usually he dressed for comfort, or practicality, never for looks. This suit was stuffy and uncomfortable. He couldn’t wait to get it off.

“This is stupid.” Bucky muttered, tugging at his own blazer in distaste, “I don’t see why I gotta go meet a load of dumb gents and dames when we’re talkin’ all this crap over in a few days anyway.”

“Dropping the bomb of Bucky Barnes being alive should be done gently,” Tony raised an eyebrow, “Unless you want to just jump out at a room of world leaders and say ‘Not Dead!’ but that’s a little too Sherlock for you.”

“What’s this got to do with Sherlock?” Bucky frowned, his eyebrows scrunching together adorably.

“New TV show,” Steve said, turning from the mirror and shrugging, “It’s hugely popular right now.”

“Why?” Bucky asked, “I always thought it was dull.”

“Oh, dear me,” Tony shook his head, tutting, “You have truly learned nothing. Rogers, I expect you to educate him.”

“We haven’t even caught up on Disney yet, don’t get ahead of yourself.” Steve saw how Bucky was struggling with his bow tie and batted his hands away, swiftly doing it up himself and trying to ignore the feeling of Bucky’s eyes burning into him.

“I swear I’ve done this before,” Bucky said, and Steve flicked his eyes up to see the man’s eyes glaze over with forgotten memory.

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve assured him, trying to pull Bucky away from somewhere he couldn’t follow. It was happening less and less, but still there were times when the other man was completely out of reach. There were memories they didn’t share anymore, seventy years that they were apart and couldn’t possibly get back. It ate at Steve.

Even though he thought Bucky was dead, it still felt like he had abandoned him.

“Okay,” Tony said, breaking Steve out of his reverie and making him realise he had been staring at Bucky’s face with his fingers completely still on the half done bow tie, “I’m just going to head on out and leave you two to it. Be at the party by no later than 10:30 and stay for at least half an hour. Say hey to the three people we told you about and everything will be done and dusted before the press conference,” Tony said, then moved to leave, before stopping and looking over his shoulder to add, “Don’t stain the sheets.”

“Why would we-” Bucky started, then his eyebrows shot up - “Oh.”

“That’s Tony for you.” Steve huffed a laugh, and finished up with the tie, then stepped back to look at his handiwork, “Nice.”

“I don’t- I’m sorry if what he- uh- suggested makes you uncomfortable or anything.”

“What?” Steve met Bucky’s uncertain eyes, “It didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” Bucky pursed his lips, “Okay- that’s- okay.”

“You know, all that, is more accepted now,” Steve said, putting his hands in his pockets, trying not to show how proud he was of that development, “They don’t have to hide anymore. Dum Dum would’ve flipped.”

“His boy would’ve flipped more.” Bucky smiled sadly, staring at his feet, “I miss those ass holes.”

“Me too.”

“Any of them still kickin’?” Bucky asked, moving over to the chest of drawers by Steve’s- their- bed and grabbing his black leather gloves. Though Tony boasted about his skills at making fancy prosthetics, the anatomically correct arm was still unfinished. As this was Bucky’s first appearance in the 21st century, the metal hand could not be seen. He seemed almost excited about the gloves though, ‘It’s like I’m in one of those gangs our Ma’s always warned us about!’, he had exclaimed excitedly. Steve smiled fondly at the memory, his smile widening even more at how much like the old Bucky it was.

“Gabe is still around. I wrote letters to him a while back but he could barely write a reply with his- uh- dementia.” Steve sighed, “His granddaughter, Becky, is keeping me up to date on how he is though. Apparently he talks a lot about his old pal Cap, and his boy Bucky.”

“ _Your boy?”_ Bucky gaped, looking offended, “If there were any ownership goin’ on we all know your ass would be mine.”

“Only because you never seemed to get the memo that I could fight my own battles.” Steve rolled his eyes, slipping on the uncomfortable fancy shoes Tony insisted that he wore. They were too narrow, too shiny, and so hard in the soles that they might as well have been his horrible army boots from the war. In all honesty, Steve loved that Gabe called Bucky his boy. It made it feel like Bucky really was his, that he wasn’t the only one feeling the way he did. Then he would remember that Bucky definitely wasn’t his, and that was never going to happen, then the warm feeling would go away.

“You were still the cocky kid from Brooklyn that needed to be on a leash, muscles or not.” Bucky frowned, his eyes glazing over once more. Knowing he couldn’t say anything to make it go away, Steve chose not to reply, instead going about tying his laces with more concentration than they necessarily needed.

Silently, Bucky moved to grab his own shoes, his eyebrows still scrunched together in an expression that Steve wished wasn’t there. It was ten minutes until the man spoke again, and it was quietly, almost a whisper in the still air of the bedroom.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Steve.”

“I’ll do all the talking, if you want. You just have to smile and nod.”

“These people,” Bucky gestured vaguely, “They ain’t my people. I can’t charm ‘em, can’t kill ‘em. I have to appear as a dead man and tell them all I’m alive.”

“What do you mean you can’t charm them?” Steve smiled, trying to look reassuring even though Bucky was staring at the floor, “Look at you, it’ll be easy.”

“I can’t-” Bucky let out a frustrated breath- “I can’t flirt anymore. I don’t have that confidence, that he had.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like you’re not the same man anymore, Buck.” Steve crouched down so he was at eye level with the other man where he was sat on the edge of the bed, “You’re different, changed, but not new. You’re still you. And charming isn’t always flirting, you know. I can charm without flirting.”

“Bet you’re flirting and don’t even realise it.” Bucky laughed slightly.

“I don’t.” Steve said with certainty. He couldn’t think of anyone he had flirted with since he was unfrozen, and even before was a difficult task.

“Sam?” Bucky tilted his head, his eyes starting to fill with mirth instead of dread, “Spoke to him the other day and he thought you were flirtin’ with him when you first met.”

“What?”

“His exact words were ‘I was flattered as hell, and was almost tempted because _Captain America’_.”

“Why did you talk to Sam?” Steve ignored the comment, and focused on another piece of information. It helped with the growing blush on his cheeks, but it was also a big step for Bucky to be having proper conversations with people on his own.

“He came lookin’ for you while you were out on a run.” Bucky shrugged, “We got talking and had a few beers. He got tipsy, apparently I ain’t affected by that crap anymore.”

“Huh,” Steve said, staring at a point over Bucky’s shoulder, “Maybe we should all have a drink sometime.”

“What? You, me, and Sam?”

“No, all of us.” Steve used the only label he could think of for the whole group, “The avengers.”

“I dunno,” Bucky rubbed his palms over his thighs even though they were gloved, “Would that be too much?”

“You tell me.” Steve pursed his lips, “We’re about to go into a party of over fifty people so I would hope seven wasn’t too much.”

“Fifty is- fifty is definitely too much.”

“As much as I wanna say you don’t have to do this, and take you away from it all. You do.” Steve sighed, “Only for a half hour, then we can go.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay,” Bucky swallowed, “Okay, I can do that.”

“’Course you can.” Steve smiled. _I love you,_ he wanted to say, _I love you so much._ Instead, he pushed himself to his feet, holding out a hand to help Bucky up too. Not that he needed it, but it was more figurative than anything. Bucky closed his eyes for a moment, then let out a breath.

“Let’s go.”

*

Bucky’s metal hand was clutching Steve’s forearm, but his face showed no signs of distress, a charming smile gracing his lips that anyone who didn’t know him would buy.

“It really is incredible-”

“You two must be so happy to be reunited-”

“A miracle of science-”

“I’ve heard all about what you two did in the war-”

“It is _odd_ that you both survived, I must ask-”

All the same things, all the same faces, same people, same voices. They acted like they cared about who you were as a person, then as soon as you showed human emotion they backed away like you were a dog that misbehaved. Steve was used to it. He had seen them all, in all of their colours, pretending to be concerned so they could get their teeth into you and rip you apart.

These rich media personas were only interested in a story, an icon, an idol. They didn’t care that Steve had nightmares every night; they didn’t care that Bucky had survived more trauma than any man should have to; they didn’t care that these two men had been to hell and back and survived. They cared about the surface.

If Steve and Bucky weren’t good-looking men, the attention they got would fall to nearly nothing.

It grated at Steve as he smiled and chatted politely with old white man after old white man. Sometimes their wives got a say, and when they did Steve made sure to pull them into the conversation, but often they were pushed aside by their husbands so they could grip onto Steve and Bucky again. It made his stomach turn.

Steve just thanked the heavens that Rupert Murdoch, practically the devil himself, wasn’t there to question them too. Even Stark wasn’t that connected.

A few times they met a genuine person. They would ask questions about recovery, about how they were handling the 21st century and all of its pleasures. It was few and far between though. Steve tried to latch onto those conversations and make them last, but somehow they were always dragged away by another media crony when the topic just got interesting.

They stayed more than half an hour.

Every time Steve tried to excuse himself and Bucky, another group would pull them into conversation and ask more invasive questions, watching them like they were bacteria under a microscope and not human beings.

Bucky’s hold on Steve’s arm got tighter and tighter as the night went on, his smile starting to waver as one hour became two.

“Steve, Bucky!” A very welcome voice came from Steve’s right, and Natasha smoothly walked over to them, a drink in her hand that had also been there twenty minutes ago when Steve saw her chatting with Clint in the corner. She hadn’t drunk a sip, but there were lipstick marks on the rim that made it look like she had. The liquid was flat, which was the only reason Steve could tell that it hadn’t just been refilled. Praying that she was here to save them, Steve turned to her with a smile.

“Natasha.” He greeted, and Bucky nodded at her, his smile slipping fully into a blank stare.

“You’re really needed over here.” Natasha smiled in a way she never did when they weren’t with company, “Clint is trying to climb in the vents again. Excuse us.” She said to the couple that had just been talking to them, and started walking away towards the bar.

“Thank you.” Steve breathed, “I thought I was going to punch that guy in the face.”

“I put him on mute.” Bucky said casually, his grip slightly looser on Steve’s arm, but still tight enough that he probably couldn’t escape if he tried.

“You can do that?” Steve asked, his eyebrows raised. Bucky simply shrugged in reply, looking around the room as if assessing possible escape routes. Honestly, Steve was tempted to do the same.

“Could you two look more like you’re heading somewhere, please?” Natasha looked over her shoulder with an unimpressed expression. Both Steve and Bucky quickened their pace so they were directly behind her, looking straight ahead where it now turned out they were heading for the doors on the other side of the room. Clint was leant against the wall next to them, casually flipping over an arrow head in his left hand, the other in his pocket.

“This party is such an eye sore.” Clint said when they reached him, rubbing his eyes as if it was literally hurting him, “Stark is blinding me with all these damn lights.”

“Stop being a weirdo and leave the room.” Natasha said, swiftly moving passed him. With an exasperated sigh, Clint followed immediately, putting his arm around her shoulders as they headed down the corridor.

“Movie?” He suggested, looking over his shoulder at Steve and Bucky as well as Natasha.

“Only if it isn’t Star Wars.” Natasha said it like a death threat, and Clint probably took it as one. Steve couldn’t really tell, as his reply was a smirk, which was how he replied to both death threats and casual remarks.

“I could watch a movie.” Bucky said quietly, removing his hand from Steve’s arm. Without thinking, Steve grabbed it so they were holding hands instead. Before he could regret it, he answered too.

“As long as there’s popcorn.”

“Clint.” Natasha elbowed the man in the ribs when he didn’t reply after a few long moments, and he startled, looking around at them as if he forgot they were there, “Are you wearing your hearing aids?”

“You know I don’t where them when we go to parties, Nat,” Clint groaned, “It makes them ring.”

“We’re all up for the movie,” Natasha rolled her eyes, and they stopped at the lift. She looked at them all judgingly, or maybe it was calculatingly, or kindly. Steve wasn’t going to pretend he could read her, “Who’s place?”

“I installed like twelve speakers so I don’t have to wear my hearing aids when I’m chilling,” Clint wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, as if speakers were sexy, “If we watch something with explosions it might burst some eardrums.”

“Your place it is.” Steve said simply as the elevator doors slid open.

*

“She should just beat his ass.” Bucky commented for the fifth time in the last twenty minutes, shaking his head at the screen as if it had personally offended him.

“He’s just trying to help, don’t be harsh.” Clint threw some popcorn in his mouth before handing the bowl to Steve. He helped himself to a handful and put them in his lap to munch on for the next few minutes. Bucky took a piece as soon as the bowl was gone, and just shrugged when Steve raised an eyebrow at him.

“He’s being sexist.” Natasha stated, playing with a butterfly knife casually as she slouched in the loveseat, her feet hanging over the arm and swinging idly.

“Jason Statham is not sexist!” Clint shouted, enraged, “Take that back!”

“Technically,” Steve said with a mouthful, “This isn’t Jason Statham. He’s Rick Ford.”

“Shut up.” Clint grumbled, stuffing popcorn in his mouth to avoid having to say anything else.

“Melissa McCarthy is making a place for women in comedy,” Natasha said, tilting her head, “Her and Kristen Wiig make life worth living.”

“I concur,” Clint pointed at her, “We need to get these pensioners to watch Bridesmaids next.”

“What’s that?” Bucky asked, shuffling so his head was resting on Steve’s thigh and his feet were hanging over the arm of the sofa.

“The best comedy of this century,” Natasha replied, “Or ever.”

“We need to make movie nights a regular thing,” Clint said, “Don’t we?” He raised his eyebrows at Steve, “Cap, I have been pitching this damn idea to Nat for _months_ , but she’s all ‘No, Clint, it’s just an excuse for you to rope more people into watching your shitty indie films’. I mean, what does that even mean?”

“I don’t sound like that.” Natasha glared at him, “And it means exactly what it says. You just want more people to watch those shitty films you’ve forced on me.”

“They’re not shitty,” Clint defended, scoffing, “You’re shitty.”

“Excuse me?” Natasha stopped flipping the knife and held it tightly, staring at Clint like he was her pray.

“Please, you won’t throw that at me.” He rolled his eyes, and the room went silent for a moment while Natasha seemed to mull that over.

“No,” She said eventually, “It would involve copious amounts of paperwork and I’m not up for that.”

“Love you too.” Clint said sweetly, and Bucky looked up at Steve as if to say ‘These guys are insane’. Thankful that they could still communicate like that, and proud that Bucky managed to make it through the night without breaking down, Steve ran his fingers through the man’s hair and preened when he nuzzled into the touch.

*

“What do you think of the 21st century?” A journalist asked, her tape recorder held just below her chin and her glasses slipping down her nose.

Steve was sat next to Bucky, their knees touching under the table. It was himself, Pepper and Bucky up on the panel, microphones in front of them and a sea of carefully selected journalists watching them.

“Uh- It’s uh- different.” Bucky started, swallowing audibly, “There’s a lot of sh- stuff to get used to that I haven’t quite grasped yet. Like, mobile phones for example, I still don’t get ‘em.” A ripple of laughter went through the room, and Steve smiled slightly. Trust Bucky to be able to charm a room even when he stuttered. There had been many close calls already, when he got offended by a question and had to quickly mask it, or when he nearly swore during an answer and had to back track. This was going to be all over the internet soon enough, for children and families to watch as well as everyone else, so there needed to be as little to cut out as possible.

Bucky needed to make a good impression, he had to be trustworthy.

They had to tell as close to the truth as possible. Everything was okay, apart from the Winter Soldier stuff. It was easier to tell the truth where possible, and leave out some questionable details, than to come up with a whole other story.

“How did you survive?” It was the inevitable question, and the room went silent when it was asked. Steve moved his foot so that their whole lower legs were touching, and shared a small smile with Bucky to assure him that things were going to be okay. He just had to say it with confidence, so people didn’t know that it was practically a lie.

“When I fell,” Bucky’s left hand twitched, the fake tendons in his new arm still stiff and sensitive, “I had already been tested on by HYDRA. There was some form of Steve’s super soldier serum in me, which meant I survived the fall,” He swallowed again, wiping a hand over his face. Thankfully, with the hard hitting nature of the story, nervousness was inevitable. It would be seen not because it was a lie, but because it was difficult to retell, “I was preserved by the ice for days before someone found me. By that point I was practically dead, with my head caved in and loads of other injuries. I was put in cryo until they could figure out how to heal me.”

“Did they? Or did you come out for another reason?” It was the same reporter, a young boy. They weren’t really meant to ask more than one question, but Bucky answered anyway.

“When Steve found out I was still alive, he demanded that I be unfrozen to either be given a proper burial or be helped,” He smiled then, small and directed at the table, “Turned out I had healed myself over the seventy years I had been frozen.”

“Why didn’t they tell Steve before he crashed the plane?” Another reporter asked.

“I was found after.” Bucky said simply, his gaze downcast. As time went on, Steve could tell he was closing in on himself, getting overwhelmed by guilt again. It seemed he still beat himself up for leaving Steve. Even though he had no control over it, Bucky still held it against himself.

“What are you going to do now?”

“Live.” Bucky answered, “Live my life like I would’ve in the forties, but with more advanced tech.”

“What has been your best discovery of the 21st century?”

“Uh-” Bucky seemed to seriously consider this, chewing on his lip and staring at the back of the room as he thought – “Probably the advancement of rights. I hear gay marriage is legal now in most states.”

“Why is that your favourite thing?”

“I lived in a liberal part of Brooklyn,” Bucky said simply, “Me and Steve would see that kind all the time, and hated it when they had to hide or got beat up just for lovin’ someone. Seein’ progress on that front is pretty damn refreshing, especially with how they were treated concernin’ the military in my day.”

“I gotta step in here to say something,” Steve spoke into his microphone for the first time since his introduction, “In our day, you could be kicked out of the military if you were gay, lesbian or bisexual. We met a few people that hid their sexuality in order to serve. A howling commando, or two, though I won’t name who, were gay themselves. It broke our hearts that we were treated differently, and it’s about damn time we were seen as equal.”

“Okay,” Pepper spoke suddenly, her voice short and commanding, “That’s enough questions for today. Thank you.”

“You did great.” Steve told Bucky honestly as they left the stage, and Bucky beamed.

“I did, didn’t I?” He said proudly, and Steve could help but pull him in for a hug that the other man returned in kind.

“It’s over.” He whispered into Bucky’s hair, “You did it.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Stevie.” He could feel Bucky’s smile against his neck, and found himself grinning, so proud of how far they had come and how much was going to follow.

*

“You said ‘we’.” Natasha took a sip of her coffee, scrolling through her phone idly. Steve looked up from his book, frowning. She had invited herself in, walked casually into the kitchen and made herself a coffee, then taken a seat on the sofa by the TV and not spoken for twenty minutes. Bucky was sparring downstairs with Clint, something they had agreed on doing during the movie, and it felt like Natasha had been waiting for the opportunity to bring this up.

“What?”

“It’s all over the internet,” Natasha took another sip, smiling at whatever was on her screen, “You said ‘we’.”

“I don’t know what you’re-”

“’ _#CaptainBisexual’, ‘#CaptainOfGayRights’, ‘#BuckyAndSteve’, ‘#BarnesPressConference’._ They’re all trending. Right now. Do you even have twitter?”

“Don’t confuse me with modern day terminology,” Steve shook his head, putting his book down so he could get up and peer over Natasha’s shoulder at whatever she was reading, “What is this?”

“People haven’t stopped talking about your interview with Barnes. It’s made the internet explode. Mostly because you and Bucky have made it pretty clear you’re advocates for the gay rights movement, but also,” She tilted her head back so their eyes met, “Because you said _we.”_

“I don’t-”

“Let me spell it out for you, Rogers.” Natasha stood up swiftly and read from her phone “’I cannot believe that Captain America practically came out during a press conference about his dead boyfriend’.” She looked up with a raised eyebrow, then started reading again, “’It’s about damn time we were treated equally’”

“Slip of the tongue, once.” Steve scoffed, but Natasha just smiled, slow and knowing.

“’It broke our hearts that _we_ were treated differently.’”

“Crap.” Steve dropped his head into his hands, “Did everyone really notice that? I thought I was being careful.”

“That whole ‘one or two of the howling commandos’ was like the ‘I’m asking for a friend’, wasn’t it? You were talking about yourself too.” Natasha took a step forward, her gaze calculating, and Steve crumbled.

“Yes,” He pinched his lips together, “Fuck! I’m such an idiot.”

“I _knew it._ ”

“What?”

“Bruce owes me ten bucks.”

“You made a _bet?”_

“He didn’t think ‘Mr America’ could possibly be gay, but I knew what I saw in those old videos. You and Bucky were not subtle, soldier.” She started typing into her phone, but Steve snagged on the last part of her little speech. He grabbed it out of her hands and held it higher than she could reach so she couldn’t take it back, “I can climb you, you know.”

“You said ‘you and Bucky’. Bucky and I weren’t together, and we aren’t now.”

“Come on, Rogers, you can drop the act.” Natasha reached for her phone, but Steve stepped back, going on his tip-toes so he could hold it higher, “I _will_ climb you.”

“Don’t tell him.”

“Don’t tell who, what?”

“Don’t tell Bucky I’m queer!” Natasha stopped jumping.

“You mean-” She considered him with a frown, then her expression slipped into something too much like concern- “He doesn’t know.”

“Of course he doesn’t know.” Steve gave her the phone back, and stared at his hands, “He’s the one that made me realise and you think I’d tell him? In the forties? As much as guys like him support it, he wouldn’t want his best friend to be like that.”

“Oh, Steve-”

“Don’t.” He held up a hand, then flopped onto the sofa and picked up his book again.

“I won’t tell him.” Natasha said after a moment.

“Thank you.” Steve said sincerely, then tried to lose himself in a fictional world where he wasn’t in love with his best friend, where he wasn’t some public figure that had to be perfect all the time, where he wasn’t only just scraping by with what little companionship he had that still _wasn’t enough._

Needless to say, he was on the same page twenty minutes later when Natasha silently left, her mug sitting empty on the coffee table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think so far, and what you might like to see in upcoming chapters!  
> I have a general idea, but I'm pretty much making it up as I go...  
> Hopefully the next chapter will come sooner ;)


	4. Coming out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was less painful than Steve thought it would be, coming out to Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took me so long to update, peeps
> 
> here's the next chapter!

“Some kid walked up to me today to talk.” Bucky dropped his stuff down on the kitchen counter when he walked in, and Steve peered over his shoulder to see that the man’s shoulders weren’t tense like they usually were after a bad experience, so this must not have been a bad thing.

“Oh yeah?” Steve said, turning the hob down so he could turn and talk without risking burning their dinner, “What’d they say?”

“She said ‘are you mister Barnes?’. I, obviously, replied yes. Then she started goin’ on about how amazing and brave I am, and wanted to know how I was finding 2015.”

“That’s great, Buck.”

“I know!” Bucky beamed, “It’s like I’m a war hero or somethin’, even though I’ve technically killed more people than I’ve saved.”

“We saved millions back in the war-”

“Yeah but,” Bucky’s mouth twisted, “The people I killed back when I was- yeah- they coulda saved more.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“I know.” Bucky rolled his eyes, then hip checked Steve as he joined him at the cooker, “Watcha makin’?”

“Pasta bolognaise.”

“Isn’t is meant to be spaghetti bolognaise?” Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, but I forgot to buy spaghetti.” Steve shrugged, and Bucky laughed. It wasn’t hesitant, and it wasn’t quiet. It was a full, head thrown back, belly laugh. It made Steve happy to see him happy. Maybe one day he would hear Bucky’s laugh without getting emotional, but that day wouldn’t be any time soon. Every time it happened it was like music to Steve’s ears.

“Put the kettle on,” Steve nodded at the device, and Bucky groaned, “I know, it’s so hard to do things, isn’t it?”

“I can do _things_. This is a chore,” Bucky complained, “You’re making me do a chore.”

“Well get used to it. Just be glad you don’t have to get a job.”

“I don’t know, I could go down to the docks again,” Bucky clicked the kettle on, then leant against the side, watching Steve stir their dinner, “I miss Tom. You remember him?”

“Yeah, he called me short stack and ruffled by hair,” Steve shook his head, remembering it like it were yesterday. Tom was a nice guy, really, but he always preferred Bucky to Steve, in a way that made him uncomfortable.

“He was a condescending shit head, but I liked him,” The kettle clicked off, and Steve grabbed it before Bucky could, pouring the water into the pan of pasta he already had set up, “His dame, what was her name?”

“Betty.”

“Yeah, her,” Bucky clicked his fingers, “She was a looker, wasn’t she?”

Steve remembered Betty. She was sweet, blonde, just Bucky’s type. Her skirts were always bright and she was nearly always smiling. There wasn’t a moment when she wasn’t laughing, or joking, or being generally bubbly. There were times when she really grated on Steve. Especially when she flirted with Bucky in front of both her boyfriend and Steve. Her bravery was impressive, really.

“Sure, Buck.”

“You don’t see dames like that around anymore,” Bucky said, “The men, though. They’re just as good lookin’ as they used to be,” Steve nearly choked on his own spit when he gasped in shock at that, “They don’t have the same hair swoop, though. I miss that hair swoop. Looked damn good on Tom.”

“You-” Steve cursed his higher than usual voice- “You think fellas nowadays are _handsome?”_

“Sure,” Bucky shifted uncomfortably, “I just- things are more accepted nowadays and I thought, hey, I may as well be open about what I like. _Who_ I like.”

“Oh,” Steve nodded, not sure what to say, “I’m happy for you.”

*

“Bucky’s queer!” Steve walked into Nat’s living room, in her flat on the other side of town. She wasn’t expecting him, and he didn’t call, so it shouldn’t have really been a shock to see that she wasn’t alone, “Oh, hi Clint.”

“Hey,” Clint took another bite of his pizza, and continued watching the TV as if Steve had said nothing when he walked in.

“Sit, talk,” Natasha patted the seat next to her, and Steve sat down, and immediately put his head in his hands.

“Bucky said he thinks guys today are handsome, but he misses the hair swoop of the forties,” He looked up and met Nat’s indifferent gaze, “He’s queer, Nat, and I didn’t say a damn thing.”

“You didn’t tell him you like guys too?” She asked, all judgement, or was that sympathy. Steve really couldn’t read her.

“No,” He rested his head on the back of the sofa and stared at the ceiling, “God, I’m pathetic.”

“Just bone him,” Clint suggested, still staring at the TV, “At first, I totally assumed you guys had been banging during the war, so clearly you just need to like, talk about things,” He raised an eyebrow, “And bone.”

“How can I bring it up now? He thinks he confessed something and I can’t just bring it up again in case I make him uncomfortable.”

“You’re right,” Natasha tutted, “You are pathetic. Just talk to him, you idiot. You’re both ‘queer’ and you’re both in love with the other. Just say something.”

“Just ‘cause he’s queer doesn’t mean he’s in love with me.”

“No,” Natasha tilted her head, “It doesn’t. But the fact that you broke him out of seventy _years_ of brainwashing, _and_ how he talks about you like you hung the fucking moon does. He loves you, Steve,” She punched him in the shoulder, “ _Talk to him.”_

“She shoots,” Clint flicked his wrist, “And she scores.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Steve nodded, trying to sound more confident than he felt, “I will.”

*

“Don’t go in there!” Bucky shouted, “Fuck, you idiot, what are you doing?”

“You know they can’t hear you, right?” Steve smiled at Bucky’s affronted expression. They had watched Disney films nearly every night that week, so now they were doing the complete opposite. Horror films. Steve loved them. He loved the shock when something jumped out and the fear of the unknown that came with most of the _really_ good ones. Bucky, however, didn’t see the appeal.

“It’s stupid, Steve,” Bucky rolled his eyes, “No one would go in there, not in real life. It’s like people in horror movies live in some alternate universe where common sense doesn’t exist.”

“So are you telling me if you saw a house like this, you’d walk in the opposite direction?”

“Yes,” Bucky said, “Like a smart person.”

“Are you calling yourself smart?”

“No, _like_ a smart person, Stevie,” Bucky tutted, “Learn to listen.”

Steve smiled at him, trying to contain the flurry of compliments, like how the glint in Bucky’s eyes was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, or that his hair looked so soft that Steve ached to run his fingers through it.

“We should watch Crimson Peak,” Steve suggested, bracing himself, “It’s not that scary, but Tom Hiddleston is in it, and he’s handsome.”

“Steve, you don’t gotta-” Bucky groaned, tilting his head back.

“I’m not just saying it for you,” Steve said quietly, “I- I think he’s handsome too. Very handsome.”

Bucky tilted his head forward again, and looked at Steve, really looked at him. It was like he could see right through him. His gaze was calculating, and Steve tried to hold it. Maybe Bucky would work it out, realise that Steve was in love with him. Anyone could see it. Steve could be read like a book, especially when it came to Bucky.

“Oh,” Bucky nodded, “Put it on, then. Let’s see this ‘Tom Hiddleston’ fella.”

It was less painful than Steve thought it would be, coming out to Bucky, but somehow it felt anticlimactic. He thought there would be a forced love confession, maybe an intense argument. Instead, they sat and watched Crimson Peak together, laughing at the overdramatic graphics and ogling at Tom Hiddleston.

“Don’t you think he looks a bit like-?”

“Don’t. Don’t talk about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lemme know what you think, pals


	5. Jig for Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i've been absent and this chapter is v short
> 
> but it's a promise of more to come
> 
> I'm still alive and still writing!!!

“We’re going.” Natasha crossed her arms, like there was no room for argument, but Steve had other ideas.

“No.”

She came storming into Steve’s apartment five minutes ago with a flyer and a devilish grin. Apparently, she’d already roped Clint, Sam, and Tony into it. That left Steve and Bucky, since Pepper was away.

A 40s style dance. It would be historically inaccurate, probably, and incredibly loud. Bucky was just getting used to being around the sound of other people, films, and slightly loud music. He couldn’t handle any more than that.

“Don’t be such a sour puss.” Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Bucky,” Steve said pleadingly, expecting Bucky to agree, and defend his refusal.

“I want to go,” Bucky nodded, “It could be fun. Don’t you wanna see what kids nowadays think about the forties?”

 _Not really,_ Steve wanted to reply, but the hope on Bucky’s face made him hesitate.

“Fine.”

Natasha smirked at him like she knew exactly what just happened, and she probably did. Steve was weak. He gave her a warning look and she pursed her lips. All this time off from being a spy must’ve got to her. Her poker face was terrible.

“We’re setting off in a few hours,” She said, then sauntered past them, leaving the flyer on the table, “You better look just like all those photos, boys.”

“Well,” Bucky said once she had left, “Better find a reversal for that serum if we want you to look like pictures from the forties.”

“Maybe they actually have proper medications for everything that was wrong with me back then.”

“Maybe,” Bucky looked Steve up and down, and his eyes had the slight glaze they got when he was thinking about the past. It was like it took extra effort to do it. The fog where the brainwashing had got to him must not have been completely gone, “I think I like this you better.”

“Yeah?” Steve felt suddenly body conscious, like every part of him was suddenly exposed. Bucky seemed to have that effect on him. He tried to ignore it.

“Yeah,” Bucky shook his head, and a smile took over where there was a look of concentration before, “Help me do the swoop with my hair?”

“You’ll be the most beautiful boy at the ball.”

“Cinderella?” Bucky grinned, proud of himself for understand the reference, and Steve couldn’t help but laugh.

There was no doubt that Bucky would be the best looking, wherever they went, hair swoop or not. The thought made Steve’s stomach clench, and he thought back to Natasha’s word. Should Steve tell him?

“Come on, Stevie.”

No, not now, not when Bucky was so comfortable in his life and finally getting better. Steve couldn’t put all that at risk just because of his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long lads and laddettes
> 
> pls tell me ur still reading this lmao i feel like everyone will have forgotten about it by now

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr- girlsf0rgirls


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